slow life
by Appointment
Summary: Luna comforts Harry after Sirius' death. Harry/Luna. Leave a review please!


slow life

harry + luna

_"i think i know what's on your mind – a couple words, a great divide. waiting in the wings, a small respite crowding up the foreground from behind. even though you're the only one i see, it's the last catastrophe. place your bets on chance and apathy. take anything you want, it's fine. keep up the slow life just for the night."_

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><p>Thick, heavy rain falls down in big drops, each one a beautiful yet different shade of melancholy blue. Slowly at first, one – two – three – the deluge envelopes everything within it, sleepy colours and scents euphoric and nostalgic, even. Diamond flecks slice through the cool gales, and some take leave on a boy's eyelashes, fluttering just on half lidded eyes of bright green, not nearly as sprightly as they could be. Harry was frozen to his very core, water coating him like a second layer of uncomfortable, numb skin.<p>

He's been there for so long that when Luna grows close enough to see his figure, she wonders if he's now part of the earth, fused against the tree he's leaning on, grass growing and wrapping over his legs like licentious ivy. He's still, quite still, eyes focused on something hiding in the folds of the distance, perhaps behind the castle, or in the lake. She doesn't know, but she tries. Harry's face is wilted and tired, like a creased paper bag, and she finds herself wishing that she could see inside of his head.

He's waiting for something that won't happen – often the best and the worst kind of waiting – and she joins him. Her presence isn't acknowledged in the least, and she figures he just hasn't noticed her. He has, and he's the first to speak.

"What are you doing out here, Luna?" he asks, and his voice is but a shadow, close to dissipating in the wind. She tucks wet hair behind her ear, and her odd earrings are disrupted.

"I often search for Gulping Plimpies in the lake when it rains," she replies, and she turns to see Harry's gaze has shuttled itself away from the distance, and onto her face. "I saw you out here, so I decided the Plimpies are going to have to wait." She smiles, and her placid expression makes Harry ease back into the tree – she was not going to pester him into coming indoors like Ron and Hermione had.

Before he notices what she's doing, Luna slips her hand into his, and plants heat in his stiff, glacial palms.

"You are a bit cold though." she says, her voice somewhat distant to Harry. She looks at his eyes, and they are painted in a shade of green that isn't naïve as green eyes should be, but they are many tints mixed – fear, confusion, hurt.

It's June, but the lack of ambience is startling. Even the rain holds no support, everything is grieving. The air has transformed into tulle, swallowing the blue veil, the sky above.

"You're wet." says Harry simply, and Luna lets out a tiny, mellifluous laugh.

"Well yes, that tends to happen when it rains." she says, though the comment is everything but filled with sarcasm. It's warm, like the skin of her hands.

She moves a bit closer to him when blinded and deafened by a watery crescendo – a mutual prayer of more rain, colder now.

"Harry, you're still feeling quite sad about your godfather, and you wouldn't want me to pry into your life."

He breathes heavily.

"Yes?"

"You shouldn't be frightened, though. People will die during this fight, and if they don't, they'll die anyways, with time. It isn't your fault."

He feels as if she has torn into his mind and extracted the thoughts from him like a delicate mining procedure – naked, exposed. Chills ghost down his back, accompanied with bitter drops of water.

"Sirius –"

"You aren't responsible." she says, cutting him off, unlike herself. "He was taken quite soon, but you should remember. Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."

She speaks under the dying light on day, her eyes like half-moons. She's telling him to let go, and he feels a bit of fear – he doesn't want to. He nods, but perhaps he's lying, but he doesn't know who to. Luna, or himself?

Time runs slowly as she kisses his cold, bluing lips, and she tastes like rain and something sweet. They feel like children once again, for divine seconds that are a little too short.

"You're beautiful, Luna." he gasps against her lips, cool and lovely, and her other hand slips into his, wicking away the cold with quick force.

"Harry…" she says, her voice barely a whisper, warm against his face, soft caresses of air.

He kisses once more, and she breathes, listening to the heartbeat of everything surrounding them – raw, bloody, alive and in love. They're encased by cool winds and incessant rain, though it stops short of Harry's hands.

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><p><strong>AN: This was written for the K I S S I N G I N T H E R A I N Challenge - Harry/Luna, obviously. It's based after Sirius dies, so somewhere between end of term and then, because they're still at Hogwarts. Inspired by the songs Slow Life by Grizzly Bear and Victoria LeGrand, as well as Big Bird in a Small Cage by Patrick Watson. **I don't own either of those songs, or Harry Potter - basically anything recognizably not mine here. **So, leave a review, please! :) It would make me sosososo happy. Tell me what you all think.**


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